


A Series of Ridiculous Events

by trascendenza



Category: Threshold
Genre: F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-20
Updated: 2009-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"We were laughing? I told Caffrey the 'a quantum physicist, his cat and a theoretical particle walk into a bar' joke."</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Series of Ridiculous Events

**Author's Note:**

> This, um. This started out as a Very Serious Investigation of the Molly/Lucas dynamic (it included deaths, Lucas' maturation arc as he grows into his job, etc.) aaaaand then I deleted all that and wrote this silliness instead. I blame this entirely on a Carla/Rob clip I saw on YouTube.
> 
> Thanks to dreams_power for the beta.

"C'mon, Caffrey, at least give me a hint," Ramsey said, wheedling.

"I would be happy to," she said, giving it a few seconds while his face broke out in hopeful curiosity. Then she dashed it. "But there's no hint to give."

"See, now, I know that's not possible." Ramsey looked her up and down. "Just--not possible. You can't honestly expect me to believe I don't have any competition for this fine, fine specimen of human evolution."

"I assure, as I have twenty-seven times before: I am not, nor in the foreseeable future will I be, on the market."

"No, really. Who is it? Cavennaugh? You two always have that weird-repressed-sexual-tension-vibe-that-makes-the-rest-of-us-uncomfortable thing going on."

She shook her head. "Friends. Not that it's any of your business."

"Fenway? Old, but feisty. Might give you a run for your money."

Molly's expression, nose crinkled and eyes vaguely horrified, answered that one.

"The cute little redhead in accounts payable? Don't tell me you didn't notice her checking out your ass the other day. She practically burned a hole in the back of your skirt."

"Ramsey," she said, starting to lose patience.

"No, don't tell me, don't tell me -- Lucas? The little puppydog eyes finally got to you? An illicit affair that would flood the Threshold halls with scandal?"

"Lucas?" Molly said, and then she really laughed. Loudly. For a long time. When she recovered, she said, "for the twenty-eighth time, Ramsey. I am not seeing anyone."

Ramsey sighed, looking at her the way a bear does a beehive that is completely, utterly out of reach. "You break my heart Caffrey, you really do."

*

"Oh, come on, you can't really think there's someone up there listening. Not after everything that's happened," Ramsey said, gesturing at Lucas with his slice of cold pizza.

Molly watched, chewing her salad as quietly as she could, and didn't step in. She was sort of with Ramsey on this one -- you couldn't figure unexplainable miracles into a contingency plan -- but she also did believe, deep down, that there was something more. She just didn't know what that "more" was.

"Yes, Ramsey." Lucas said, like he was explaining it for the hundredth time (actually forty-sixth, by Molly's count). "I do believe there is a God. _Especially_ after everything's that happened."

"If there's a big guy up there, he's falling down on the job. Like falling down _drunk_ on the job, if you know what I mean."

Lucas smiled. "I think _you_ know what you mean. Who came in yesterday morning without their pants on?"

"Pff," Ramsey said, waving his hand like the matter was inconsequential. "Like every person in this building wasn't drooling all over me."

"Actually, no," Molly said. "Although I seem to remember you drooling on the conference room table during the briefing." She raised an eyebrow. "Twice."

"Geeze, what is this, gang up on the brilliant linguist-slash-mathematician-slash-Lothario-of-D.C.-and-the-greater-surrounding-area day?"

"Yeah, according to you that's everyday," Lucas said sardonically.

"Hey, can I help it if my genius is underappreciated? We live in a cruel, cruel world," Ramsey said, "and really, man, if this was your God's plan, I gotta say: it pretty much blows."

Molly was watching Lucas sidelong, and truly, it was only because she wanted to know whether she needed to step in, because Ramsey didn't always (read: never) know when to stop. (It wasn't that she was noticing for the first time how curly Lucas' hair was, or the way he quirked his lips. She refused to believe Ramsey had that kind of power of suggestion over her.)

But Lucas' expression was just wryly amused. "No one ever said it was God's job to make our lives easier or better. He just gives us the tools to do it ourselves."

"Oh, no no no, it's way too early for a real theological analysis of free will vs. predestination," Ramsey said, waving his hand, "pass me another slice and let's talk about boobs."

Molly chuckled and Lucas rolled his eyes, but handed Ramsey the slice of pepperoni.

*

"Wow," Lucas said, holding up the gun and looking at it like he wasn't sure whether he'd just made it shoot all those targets. "Wow."

"Impressive," Cavennaugh said, doing his thoughtful half-frown of approval and surprise. "That's a 700% percent improvement over your first time at the range. Getting rid of those glasses really made the difference."

"Dude," Lucas said, still speaking overly slowly like he was in a Bill &amp; Ted movie. "Dude."

"Might be able to reduce your guard some," Cavennaugh said, considering. He turned to look at Molly. "What do you think?"

"Huh?" Molly tore her eyes away from where they'd been locked, on Lucas' really, really long fingers wrapped around the gun. "I--oh, yeah, that sounds fine, as long as he's got the minimum."

Cavennaugh did that thing he did where he tried not to smile and mostly failed. Then he did the cough-into-the-fist-hiding-a-laugh move, and Molly just got annoyed. "No problem. I'll make the arrangement as soon as we're back."

She straightened out her jacket huffily, taking the gun he was holding out since it was her turn. "Do that."

Lucas looked up from the gun, cradling it protectively to his chest. "Can I keep it?"

*

"I hate you," Molly hissed at Ramsey one day when they were passing in the hall.

"Hey," he replied without looking up from his papers, but then he stopped walking and did a double-take. "Wait, what?"

"Hmm?" Molly smiled. "Nothing."

Ramsey looked confused. "Okay. Maybe it's better if I don't know why you're giving me the evil eye?"

Her smile was a little scary. "Much."

*

That night, her journal entry consisted only of two words:

Lucas? _Really?_

*

"Fenway," she said, popping her head into his office and looking around. "Do you have a minute?"

He looked up from his paperwork. "To not be filling out the stupid forms you insist we do in triplicate? I guess I can tear myself away."

"Good," Molly said, coming in. She sat down in the one chair not covered in files, smoothing her skirt over her thighs.

After a minute, when she fidgeted a lot but hadn't said a word, Fenway pushed his glasses down over the bridge of his nose. "Well?"

"You know, this was a mistake -- I went to see Baylock, but he's in a meeting, and I just thought -- but clearly I was mistaken -- you know, I'll see you at the briefing later --"

"Caffrey, Jesus." Fenway stood up, putting a hand on her shoulder and encouraging to sit back down since she'd half-risen to leave. "Take a breath. And another one. Yes, breathing good, asphyxiation bad."

"I wasn't asphyxiating," she said, primly. "I was briefly encountering an obstacle to oxygen absorption."

"Really, though, you're not looking good, Caffrey. Pale skin, circles under your eyes--"

"_Thank you_, doctor, I think I get the idea. I haven't been sleeping well the last few nights, if you must know."

"Uh, you're the one who came into my office."

"Right. Well. I'll just be leaving now."

"Oh no you don't," Fenway said, putting a restraining hand on her shoulder. "The less you want to tell me, the more I want to know." Then he leaned in, taking in the flush around her cheeks, the chewed nails, and he started chuckling his schadenfreude chuckle, which was dry and mocking and didn't have the tiniest drop of sympathy in it. "Oh, this is going to be good. I can just feel it. You've remembered there's an opposite sex, am I right?"

Molly gave him the 'I write your paychecks _and_ know where you live' look. But then her mouth opened and instead of saying something appropriate like _don't be ridiculous_ or _you're fired_, what blurted out was, "I had a sex dream about _Lucas_."

Fenway looked like he'd just swallowed something really unpleasant. "I don't even know where to begin."

Molly sighed. "I knew I should have gone to Baylock."

*

"Hey, JT --"

Baylock held up his hand. "Dr. Fenway was kind enough to update me on the situation." He smiled. "I assure you, it's being taken care of."

"Oh," Molly said, confusion briefly creasing her brow.

Baylock smiled more broadly. "Nothing to worry about."

Molly nodded like she knew what he meant when, in reality, she was lost at sea and wondering what, precisely, Fenway had passed on. "Taken care of. Great, great, that's good to hear."

He stood up and patted her arm, an affectionate and fatherly expression on his face. "Feel better now?"

"You know," Molly said, smiling a little, "I do, actually. Thanks, JT."

*

The next day, Lucas found a memo on his desk.

_I have a shotgun and I'm not afraid to use it._

Lucas laughed. Then he remembered the death glare Baylock had shot him in the hallway earlier this afternoon, and gulped.

*

"He's just joking, right? I mean, he wouldn't -- why would he want to shoot _me_, of all people, I mean, I'm not threatening, I'm not threatening at all, and he gave me a _death glare_, Ramsey, like if there hadn't been a hallway full of people he would have taken me down right there, _oh my God, oh my God_ \--"

"Buddy." Ramsey said, grabbing Lucas' forearms and shaking him. "I know freaking out's, like, your thing, but if you want to have a conversation you're going to have to start saying things that make _sense_."

"Baylock." Lucas started, tentatively.

"Yes, very good. Baylock."

"Baylock threatened to shoot me."

Ramsey's face was disbelieving. "No way."

Lucas slipped one of his arms free and grabbed the memo from his pocket, handing it over.

"This isn't signed, Lucas, that doesn't prove anything."

"_Death glare_," Lucas said, "like three hours before I got this."

"Okay, let's say for a second I believe this crackpot theory of yours -- which I do not, because it is patently ridiculous that a man as powerful and well-connected as Baylock would lower himself to threatening a _scientist_ with a shotgun -- where did this so-called death glare happen?"

Lucas thought. "In the hallway when we were all heading down for lunch."

"Hallway. Check. Anything else?"

"I, uh. I was wearing a blue shirt?"

"Yes, Lucas. Baylock wants to kill you for your crimes again fashion." Ramsey rolled his eyes. "Anything else _useful_?"

Lucas shrugged. "I was just talking to Caffrey and Cavennaugh."

"And?"

"We were laughing? I told Caffrey the 'a quantum physicist, his cat and a theoretical particle walk into a bar' joke."

"Didn't Roberts tell you that joke? Are you seriously stealing jokes from your own hallucination?"

"Hey, she thought it was funny."

"So you and Caffrey were laughing," he said, because he knew that Lucas couldn't help himself and always giggled during the punch lines. He tapped a finger on his chin, considering. "Hmm. Wait--I _thought_ I heard Fenway saying--" He started shaking his head, "no, no, no. This can't be. I refuse to accept it."

Lucas was totally bewildered. "What? What can't be? What did I do wrong?"

Ramsey's eyes were faraway, his tone disappointed. "And she lied right to my _face_. That's what really hurts." He walked out of the lab.

"Ramsey? Buddy? What really hurts?" He looked around the very big, very empty, kind of dark and threatening lab. "Do I need to worry about someone shooting me? Ramsey?"

*

"Pegg, huh?" Cavennaugh said, sliding his tray down onto the cafeteria table.

Molly threw her hands up in the air. "Does everybody know?"

"Except him?" Cavennaugh nodded.

"That's great. Just great."

"You told Fenway," he pointed out in his '2 + 2 = 4' voice.

"And mistakenly assumed that he remembered the Hippocratic oath and the part where he respects doctor-patient confidentiality," she said.

He shrugged. "You knew better."

And she had nothing to respond with, because he was stupidly, annoyingly right.

"He's only been divorced six months," she said, like that explained everything. "Besides, I don't even know if -- if we'd even -- there's really no way it's a good idea --"

"Hey," Cavennaugh said. "You have lots of good ideas, Molly." He gestured broadly, continuing, "This place is built on your good ideas. Truth is, you know all of us, inside out, better than we know ourselves. Rachel couldn't get what he was doing here. No one outside the Red Team can, and I'm sure as hell not the one he keeps telling stupid astrophysicist jokes to and it isn't Ramsey that he keeps offering to teach all his shortcuts for Death Halo 9." He leaned forward. "Think about it."

Molly, gape-mouthed, looked at him. And thought about it.

"I--" She cleared her throat a little more forcefully than necessary, blushing furiously. "Thank you, Sean."

He gave a subdued smile, opening his pudding cup. "Anytime."

*

"If you mess this up Baylock will kill you," Fenway said by way of greeting.

Lucas made a whimpering sound in the back of his throat.

Fenway smiled. "I promise I'll do the autopsy, if it makes you feel better."

"Actually, no, that doesn't, not at all."

Fenway shrugged. "Worth a shot. Has she laid out the ground rules, yet? Apparently there are twelve protocols that cover intra-office romance. Eighty-five pages. Bet you a dollar to a dime she won't sleep with you until you memorize them."

Lucas slapped his fist down on his worktable, shaking everything on it; Fenway jumped. Lucas' expression was that of a man who has spent two nerve-wracking days with his gun in his pocket waiting for a showdown in a Threshold hallway with Baylock that he's pretty sure he'll lose even with his improved eyesight, because Baylock is a _badass_ and he's just an aeropspace engineer who likes to stroke his gun when he gets nervous, which is pretty much all the time lately, so now in addition to the fact that he's still mistaken for the coffee boy all the time, everyone _also_ thinks he's a pervert which is just pretty much the _perfect_ end to this week.

"If I mess up what exactly, Fenway?" He said slowly, deliberately, like he would kill if he didn't get an answer this time.

"Wait." Fenway put down the burned out panel he'd been looking at. "You really don't know?"

Lucas shook his head. "Help me. Please."

Fenway laughed schadenfreudishly. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

*

Molly turned the corner to see Lucas standing at the door of her office, wringing his hands. She very sternly commanded her feet to keep going forward, yes, that's right, act natural, and plastered a smile on her face. Nothing was wrong. She had everything under control. She'd already run through sixty-two different scenarios for this exact interaction and she knew _exactly_ how she was going to handle it and what she was going to say and --

"Ummmmmm," Lucas said. His eyes looked like shiny, imploring little marbles of blue.

"Er," she replied eloquently.

"Um." He kept wringing his hands. "Um. I."

"You two just got legally married in the seventh dialect of the unincorporated forests of Kongin!" Ramsey called helpfully from down the hall. His grinning face was peering out from his office door.

"Don't you have some work to do?" Molly said dryly, instantly back in control.

Ramsey sighed, but disappeared behind his door again.

"Sorry about that." Molly said.

"Why?" Lucas said. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Not quite." She didn't quite make eye contact. "The whole rumor mill. Baylock being a little, ah, overprotective."

"Well," Lucas said, taking a deep breath like maybe he could absorb courage from the atmosphere around him. "I'm. That is. Would you want to, maybe, sometime -- we could -- I mean, we don't have to, if you don't want to, it's just an idea, and I haven't even memorized all the protocols yet --"

"Lucas." Molly reached out, grabbing Lucas' wrist. Her smile was wide, real, and brilliant. "I'd love to."

Lucas let out a breath that drained every ounce of tension from his body, and smiled back. "Awesome."

*

"I can't believe it," Ramsey said, watching them with a baleful eye. "How does a guy like _that_ get a woman like her? Injustice doesn't even begin to cover it."

"You were hitting on that lab tech five minutes ago," Cavennaugh said.

"Well, duh. I am an equal-opportunity connoisseur. I appreciate the human form in all its various and sundry lovely forms." Ramsey looked askance at Cavennaugh. "Speaking of which, have you been working out?"

Cavennaugh just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Am I picking up some undertones to that look or is that a gun in your pocket?"

"It's a detonator in my pocket." Cavennaugh deadpanned, "and you're the language expert. You tell me."

"I'm getting 'meet me at my place at eight, sans underwear.' Could be a little off on the prepositions; my eyebrow is rusty."

Cavennaugh smiled in a manner reminiscent of a panther. "You'll learn."

*

"At least I have you," Fenway said to the corpse, cracking open her chest and digging in.

*

"Thank you for a very nice evening." Molly's hair glinted with dewdrops in the light from her porch.

"No, really, thank you." Lucas seemed content and nervous all at once, which was a look only he could pull off.

"I... I guess I should go in."

Lucas rocked back on his heels. "Yeah, early day tomorrow. Lots of telemetry to go through."

"Look, I realize it's not in the protocols --"

"I wouldn't want to be presumptuous, but --"

They both started talking at once and trailed off at the same time. Then Molly stepped forward, and ran her thumb along Lucas' cheekbone, and Lucas sighed, and she kissed him, softly.

"Wow," he breathed, and strung his fingers in her hair, drinking her in.

*

That night, Molly's journey entry read:

Oh my _God_, I'm going to have to wear a turtleneck to work tomorrow. [Remainder censored due to explicit content.]

*

END


End file.
